SNAKES AND STRAWBERRIES

The right place is over there.
Between the wild bees and the wild strawberries.
Under the low dense thickets
where scorching heat arrives from the sun
as soon as the wind drops
and light veers panic-stricken
like an unheeded urge.
Over there where the uncomfortable distance
between snake and earth
becomes, in the heat of love, a temptation
for eyes, fingers, tongue:
the senses of the soul.

This is feeling. The shadow does not betray
those who refuse to part with the shadow.
It surfaces, tame and shapely,
like hot water in humid air
lunging like a serpent, as is fitting
when it sucks out all of life from the unique soul
to surpass itself
perfecting the act
with its wilfulness.

You walk the mountains, a loner
you are absorbed in the distance
for years not-here, not-you
you kneel down to the strawberries, the nipples of the forest,
the pink side of death
you spatter them with a human scent
before you go through the dry leaves
before you tempt the reptiles, the vipers, serpents,
and experience, all of a sudden mind you,
their perfect art of inoculation.

At this moment of uniqueness, will you bless
her who begot you
without sensing
your immortality?

Translated by Ilija Casule and Thomas Shapcott

© Katica Kulavkova, 2001-2007.
All rights reserved.